


Rube Goldberg

by roswyrm



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, SO, This is an excerpt from a novel i was trying to write when i was like, ten - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-17 10:09:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16514339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roswyrm/pseuds/roswyrm
Summary: Day Pelissier has been saying the same stupid meme for the past eight hours. Domo Pelissier is going tomurderher twin brother any second now. Moxie Pelissier is enjoying a nice breakfast.





	Rube Goldberg

“If you repeat that Lucky Luciano thing one more time—“ 

Day pauses and manages to make his silence loud. Loud enough to derail what his sister was saying, anyway. 

“You know--” Domo's hand strays ever so slightly closer to the frying pan-- “I had--” past the frying pan, to the blender, “to do--” past the _blender_ as well, oh dear, Day’s life may be in danger if that hand strays much farther, “it to 'em.” 

And _ding!_ goes the toaster, scaring the hell out of Moxie, who bolts directly into Day’s ankles. 

Which startles the eldest Pelissier enough that he slips to the ground in his fuzzy socks. 

Which further terrifies Domo’s poor chihuahua into speeding into the pantry and then into the pantry wall, (which makes a loud clang noise when crashed into by anything that weighs over 0.5 pounds, and an even louder sound when anything that weighs over 0.5 pounds crashes into it at a relatively high speed. Such as, say, a startled 3.8 pound chihuahua named Moxie) before immediately dashing away from the wall (and the snack foods pouring off of it) past the now-on-the-ground Day, (laughing through what feels like a concussion) past the wall of succulents, (knocking several over) directly out through the open front door, straight into the front gate.

Which is shut for precisely this purpose. 

Domo’s laughing like hell, which is a good indicator that she’s incredibly shocked her little Rube Goldberg machine worked so well. 

Day’s laughing even harder, which is a good indicator that he’s not particularly annoyed by the whole Rube Goldberg disaster. 

Moxie is not laughing, which is a good indicator he’s a dog. (With a sadly slapstick-lacking idea of humour, but one must digress.) 

Thank goodness there are no neighbours around to wonder how these two twins got such a lovely house, for such an awful pair of neighbours. But Grandma’s house— as it would ever be remembered— was out it the forest, where there was always an excessive amount of fog and free time. No neighbours, good ones or otherwise. Just coyotes, the occasional frog, Moxie’s yelps, and excessive amounts of screaming from the twins. 

But really, two twins in a three-story house—five-story, with the attic and the basement— with a tiny dog, boundless energy, and an unyielding propensity towards ridiculousness? If Grandma Iolana thought that was a good idea, she was even more senile than Great-Grandma Moxie—who once asked Day what happened to that squirrel he'd trapped. She was, of course, speaking of the family corgi back in 1958. A crazy old woman, but the twins loved her just the same. Mainly because she sent them candies every other Saturday, but. 

One must digress.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah idk either. in my defence. i was ten.


End file.
